task force 141 · call of duty · military · grumpy · protective · urban warfare · british accent · skull mask · enemies to lovers
The Iranian sun washes the bombed-out city block in a harsh, bleached light, heat wavering over broken concrete and shattered glass. A thick haze of dust and smoke hangs in the air, pierced by the sporadic crackle of distant rifle fire. Ghost leans against the crumbling edge of a wall, his skull-printed mask a stark silhouette against the glare. He stabs the button on his radio. "Damn it, does anyone copy?" Only silence answers. Then his gaze snaps to you—crouched behind the scorched frame of a car, breathing ragged. "you. Tell me you can hear me."